...And back again

Quite remiss of me I know, but while I was away, I hardly even glanced at a computer, and indeed for much of the time, there wasn't one handy.

Suffice it to say that I'm back in the land of the two headed, home of wombats, devils and a certain rugrat - who somehow managed to grow an inch taller in my absence and (to use a phrase that'll make sense to the Americans among you) hits like a linebacker when giving a welcome home hug.

I'll get around to putting down as much as I can about my experiences and thoughts there elsewhere when I can put them in some kind of mntal order, but for now, a bit of a response to all you delightful responders.

The observations and helpful insights everyone offered here were all, at times, bang on the money and woefully off-base - sometimes even simultaneously.

As far as my general perception of the bits of the U.S I did get to see, I have to confess that one particular bit of advice as to what I might expect, that the U.S. is:

"...most interesting nation in the world. well, maybe japan, but that's another planet"

was closest to my experience...with a bit of tweaking.

Replace "interesting" with "schizophrenically bizarre" and "Japan" with the specific part of Tokyo known as Harajuku and you've got it nailed.

Which in no way lessened the general friendliness - which from most people felt genuine - or the odd curiosity about my accent.

I had some great conversations with a whole bunch of random strangers, as well as a lot of confused looks (from me and towards me), and a lot of astonished laughing and finger pointing (on my part).

Other quick random observations for the moment:

I managed not to get run over, though I never did master the knack of looking the right way.

The whole system of which car gives way to whom confuses the fuck outa me - if I lived there I'd have to be a pedestrian or I'd rapidly become another car crash statistic - probably on a daily basis.

The meal servings were far too large and the water in the toilets way too close to my arse cheeks for my comfort.

There is something very disturbing about getting a retinal scan and being fingerprinted before entering the country.

No matter what a person might be into or service to be had or wish to buy, there are enough other people after the same thing for there to be a store for it somewhere.

Oregon is stunningly gorgeous, and thankfully, though I was taken to areas where there be vampires (hey, I saw it on T.V so it must be true), I didn't see one sparkly person climbing a tree.

Sealions and albino snakes are much better entertainment than watching sport and taking a taxi can be more thrilling than a rollercoaster ride.

There is more and better reporting on world news and sports in my woeful local rag than there is on any of the major networks or newspapers I watched or read.

There are a lot of churches - most of them ugly.

To contrast that, there are also some astonishingly beautifully designed buildings and gorgeous architecture.

Petrol (read as gas - no, not the meat pie kind) was very cheap.

Diners are a brilliant invention (as I type this I'm reminded of my childhood experiences with the now defunct Australian Milk Bars)and the best french fries/potato chips I've had were consumed with great delight. Eating them with ranch dressing was a surprise and an unexpected epicurean delight.

Mall Ninjas are real.

So are the Sopranos.

It turns out that mythology can very effectively substitute reality on a very large scale.

I will never own that guitar signed by David Bowie. Or the one signed by the members of Pink Floyd or the one signed by the wonderfully tone deaf Bobbie Zimmerman. I think I may have cried a little at that moment.

And of course, Next was a wonderful companion, lover, co-conspirator and tour guide. My time in America with her was disgustingly perfect and wonderful.

And all too brief.

Walking away from her at the Airport was...hard. The lights (and my rapt curiosity for new sights) seemed to dim, everything became bland and lost its lustre and I felt small and hollow and cold.

In spite of three successive flight delays, I managed to arrive home only ten minutes later than scheduled. For the record, the Airbus A380 is much more comfortable than the Boeing 747, though I survived both with no discomfort at all.

I was however, mentally and emotionally numb until the moment I was hit by Monsterman's bone-jarring hug. It's hard to escape from the impact, physical and emotional, of such an assault.

Some of the numbness remains though.

Now that I am back home again, sitting once more in front of a computer screen with thousands of miles separating me from her, I can still feel her under my fingertips, against my body, beneath my lips. I can still smell the scent of her skin and hair, hear her wicked and delighted laughter and the sound of her sleeping beside me, see her smiles and her thoughts and moods play across her face.

And I feel the hard, sharp edges of her absence cutting into me.

Two weeks. All too brief and a cup filled to the brim with experiences, sights, emotions and, of course, love to sip at over the next span of time until the miles and the hard, sharp edges are gone once more.

It was wonderful.

She was - and is - even moreso.

Those are the thoughts I'll end this with and hold onto.